


Unconditional

by RottenAdel



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, no beta we die like Glenn, no harm to the baby I don't play like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-05 03:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21206936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenAdel/pseuds/RottenAdel
Summary: Felix had given up his title to take up the sword, wandering wherever the work took him. He didn't have a reason to return to his homeland, until the consequences of a certain Margrave's trysts lead him to confront his old friend. And this time he was going to make him take responsibility for his actions.AKA: the accidental baby acquisition fic no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a lot of this in one sitting. I blame(thank) the art on twitter of Felix with babies.  
This will eventually be hard Sylvain/Felix!  
Title from the song by The Bravery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix comes across the results of Sylvain's transgressions and makes it a point to hold him responsible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags specific to this chapter: referenced death in childbirth, exhaustion, illness

“There’s a village ahead.”

Looking up from his map, the head of the mercenary troop addressed his men. “We can stop there for the night, get out of the elements.”

There was a rumbling from the mercs around him, some wanting ale and women, others just wanting something soft in which to rest their weary bones. Then there was Felix, who just looked restless, agitated, as he rode his horse alongside the others. It’d been years since he left home and everyone he knew to become a wandering sword. He’d helped usher in an era of peace, his childhood friend had become the king of the very land he traveled, and him? He’d grown bored of being a noble lord within the year. He packed his things and said his farewells, leaving House Fraldarius behind and everyone associated with it.

Why? Back then, he would have given a simple answer; _ Because I hate this _. But as things stood, he wasn’t so sure. Felix never felt anything but restless and irritated, even when he was sinking his blade into the flesh of the unfortunate bandits who sought to plunder the struggling villages along the border of the country.

That’s all he did; followed the mercenaries from job to job, protecting towns, cleaning up villages, solving problems with fighting. It just made sense to him, or at least it had.

_ Maybe I just need a change of pace. Take a break and travel alone a while. Maybe visit the capital... _

He said this to himself, but Felix knew the next morning he’d be following the same band of mercs to the next town. Rinse and repeat. Wandering day in and day out.

At least the menial tasks of helping the villagers would provide him with some distraction. Many good men and women were lost during the war, leaving villages like the one ahead to pick up the pieces with only a scant few able-bodied folk. The place was dilapidated, with only one inn and limited supplies. Most of the citizens were either elderly or children. But seeing the band of unruly mercs didn’t put them off; right away there older children were offering to take their horses to the stables, and the elderly were showing them the inn where they could have a meal.

“There’s not nearly enough room for all of you.” The old woman said, “Not nearly enough room for all of us. But the barn there is cozy.”

Some of the men grumbled about wanting better places to sleep, but their leader barked at them to be grateful. “Ain’t no one gonna complain about what they get. Now get to helpin’!”

Sometimes Felix wondered why he chose to follow this man. This was not one of those times. He smirked as he watched the mercenaries scramble to help the villagers with their lodgings while he himself went about fetching firewood. It was to rain that night.

The mercenaries gathered around a blazing fire built on the ground floor of the barn. There was ale being passed around, large platters of game as well. They had exchanged their hunting skills for a place to sleep for the night, so everyone was warm and fed, mercs and villagers alike. A simple arrangement that Felix could appreciate; even if he didn’t consider himself a noble anymore, he still sought to help those less fortunate than himself.

He sat in the loft area of the barn, gnawing at some dried meat ration he’d taken for himself while he watched his comrades enjoy themselves. It reminded him of times long past, nights where he accompanied a different sort of comrades, sharing stories by the fire, laughing, sparring, _ living _. It brought a smile to his face, one that quickly faded when he sensed the approach of another.

“Oh, I didn’t expect anyone to be up here.” An old woman, easily twice the age of his father, rest his soul, carefully ascended the ladder with a bundle in her arms. Felix barely spared her a glance, merely continued watching the men below.

His attention was pulled away when he heard a soft gurgling coo. His head snapped to the side as he watched the woman settle a swaddled infant into the hay.

“What are you doing?” Felix asked, though all his etiquette lessons told him it was best to keep his mouth shut.

The woman gave him a look before settling down opposite of the baby. “Putting her to bed. It’s late.”

Felix looked at the child, grimaced, then returned to his meal. It wasn’t like the village had a lot of structures left for families to sleep. It would make sense that some of them would be sleeping in the barn. It was unfortunate that a child that small wouldn’t have its own bed, but that was just the reality they lived in.

"It's a shame, really." The old woman spoke, bringing his attention to her, then down to the child, half-buried in the straw of the loft to keep the elements at bay. "Her mother passed of sickness just hours after she was born."

Of course. Yet another facet of reality. The commonfolk did not always have access to proper care, like midwives. It was something he knew the king was trying to address, but it hadn’t gone far yet.

Felix sniffed, "And the father?"

"A passing lord, or so she claimed. So many have traveled through our town, lord and soldier alike. They never stay long. Just to partake in merriment before moving to the next settlement."

Felix nodded, observing the little bundle beneath the hay closer. The child was so small, only a few months old. Under nourished and dirty. It made Felix's heart ached. No child deserved to go hungry. That was why he fought so hard in the war; to assure the prosperity of the people.

_ No, I fought in the war to fight. To prove my strength...I gave up my title so I could keep proving my strength. _

The infant gurgled, giving a toothless smile. She stared up at him with amber colored eyes, her red hair sticking out in all directions. In spite of the poor situation she was living in, she could still smile. She cooed up at Felix, wiggling in the blankets she was cocooned in. Felix felt his heart melt.

"A lord, you say." Felix reached for the child, offering a finger. She took it happily and squeezed, babbling. "Shouldn't you bring her to the manor then?"

The old woman sighed, "Therein lies the problem; we do not know who the father is. So many pass through this village, many say they're lords when they have no coin to their name. Some stay a night, some a few days." there was a pause as she observed Felix, noting how his eyes had softened at the edges, the barest hint of a smile on his face as he gazed upon the infant. "Although..."

"Although?" Felix looked her way, brow raised.

"There was a man who claimed to be the head of a house far north of here. He had been injured, something about an ambush while he traveled. He stayed for several days and this one's mother cared for his injuries." The old woman looked at the mercenaries gathered around the fire, but her gaze was far off. Distant. She fidgeted with the hem of her apron. "He did not give a name, but said he would return someday. That man had the same hair as this child's."

That news had Felix's hair standing on end. There was no way, right? No, there was _definitely_ a way and it was too on point for him to not be true. It'd been years, yet he could still envision that man's smiling face. Fiery hair, soft brown eyes, a lecherous demeanor to hide the depth of his own sorrow. It'd been years, yet Felix thought about him every day. How he was, what he was doing. He hadn't even stepped foot near the snowy hills of his old friend's land where he now acted as head of his house. Felix feared if he did, he'd go running straight to that familiar manor and right back into that man's arms.

The arms that surely belonged to another after all these years. The Margrave of Gautier would certainly be married by now, have children, picked an heir..._ And yet _ ...Felix thought bitterly, _ he reverted to his old habits as soon as I left. _

The infant cooed, shaking Felix's finger. Such a strong grip for someone so small--! "What will happen to her?" asked Felix, eyes still on the child. He couldn't get past the resemblance. It was as haunting as it was infuriating.

The old woman was silent for a long moment, "None here can care for her. I have been doing my best, but my own children died in the war, and their children are in my care. The village elder said he would take her to a church in a neighboring town, but knowing the conflicts of this region..."

No words needed to be said for Felix to understand. The area was poor, ravaged by the war years ago and bandits currently. Relief was coming, Felix knew; Dimitri had promised that of his people. But it would arrive long after this child was gone.

A child born out of wedlock to a commoner and a lecherous lord.

"Allow me to take her."

"What?" The woman looked at Felix as if he'd proclaimed to be the archbishop themself. "Take her? Where?"

Felix didn't meet her incredulous gaze. "If it's as you say, then I don't wish to see her left to the church. I will find her father, the nameless lord you speak of."

That earned him an even more incredulous stare, "But...why?"

Felix's first answer was to pick up the child, cradling the small bundle against his chest. She was so much lighter than a baby should be... "I want to hold that lord responsible. Someone needs to, might as well be me."

The old woman looked at the two, awestruck. Felix holding the infant as if she was his own, his words bubbling with deep anger, disdain, and...sorrow? Regret? Yet the child cooed happily and reached to pat his chin, content even in the cold.

"And what if you do not find this supposed lord? Or you do, and he refuses to take responsibility?" She edged closer, bringing a blanket to drape around Felix's shoulders, fearing the cold would harm the baby in his arms.

Felix shook his head and held the child closer, "I will, and he won't. I'll make sure of that."

* * *

From childhood, Sylvain had known what awaited him as a noble lord. Politics, budgets, civil judicialism, relations with the neighboring regions. He'd been prepared for it, even longed for it during the war. Yet the era of peace brought with it a sense of emptiness, or rather boredom. He couldn't travel as he wished; the people of his land needed his guidance. And while he led them into a new era of prosperity where one's lineage didn't decide their wealth, Sylvain couldn't help but feel he'd missed out.

He took on the title of Margrave of Gautier willingly, and when Ingrid relinquished her title to become a knight at Dimitri's side, he agreed to assist in the rebuilding of Galatea as well. The lands of House Fraldarius had yet to appoint a new lord, and with their previous one leaving the command of his land to Sylvain personally, he had his hands full. Sylvain envied him; Felix had stepped down as if it was nothing, handing what power he had over to Sylvain without a second thought before taking up his sword and just...leaving.

_ "I can't sit still. I can't. I'm sorry. I'll leave things to you." _

The memory of that time still sent an ache through Sylvain's heart. The distance between them even though Felix had been standing at his side, the pain in his voice, the turmoil in his amber eyes. He could still recall the urge to reach out and touch even as Felix turned away.

Ingrid said he'd missed the boat, Sylvain agreed. And because he had, Felix had left. Or at least, that's how Sylvain rationalized it. He couldn't convince Felix that there was reason to stay, so he didn't.

That was years ago. Last he heard, Felix had joined up with a mercenary troop and was wandering the southern part of the continent. There was still plenty of fighting out there. Plenty of reason to take up a sword.

_ Or just run from your troubles. _

Sylvain had been in the study, going over requests for aid and complaints from the locals when a guard rushed in. "My lord, there is a man at the gate demanding an audience."

Sylvain looked up from his work with an almost bored expression. _Not this again._ "If it's an angry father, please inform him that I have not left the manor in months so it was certainly not me who deflowered his daughter." Unfortunately for Sylvain, his reputation as a skirt-chaser had followed him, even with his efforts to change. It was true; he hadn't gone traveling in some time, nor had he brought any women back to the manor, or even had...relations. It wasn't that the urge had gone, more that he'd been busy. Sometimes Sylvain wondered if his friends hadn't abandoned their posts for the sole purpose of saddling Sylvain with so much work that he wouldn't have time for any flings. He wouldn't put it past Ingrid. But Felix...

"But sir, he is claiming to be the former Head of House Fraldarius..."

That mix of information had Sylvain on his feet and grabbing his greatcoat in seconds. There was no way. No possible way. Surely if it was Felix who was calling on him he would have sent word ahead? Had he returned to his post, or simply come to visit? Or was it a cruel joke and the man waiting for him outside was just another ruthless assassin looking to claim the head of the Margrave?

Sylvain didn't care. His thoughts were in a whirlwind as he rushed down the stairs and out the door into the snow.

At the bottom of the hill a circle of guards had formed around a cloaked man. They barred his path, spears in hand, questioning the man who would claim to be of the Fraldarius line, absent for years. Sylvain pushed past them without an ounce of consideration for his safety.

Amber eyes, long black hair, a sharp expression that was a mix of anger and exhaustion. There could be no doubt.

"Felix..." he breathed, a smile pulling at his lips. A true, genuine smile. "So it is you--"

"We need to speak. Inside. _Alone._" Felix didn't grace him with formalities. He stared back at Sylvain as if he could bore into his very soul with those eyes alone. The cloak was grasped tightly around him, but he could see the snow packed onto his pants and boots, his horse being led away by one of the guards.

"_Now_, Sylvain." He barked, voice hoarse, making Sylvain jump. This was not how he imagined their long-awaited reunion to go. Some vague insults and a hug he expected, not Felix glowering like he was ready to smack him. _I almost think an angry father would have been better..._

The demand was heard loud and clear. "Stand down. Can't you see this is Felix Hugo Fraldarius? He is welcome in my home." Sylvain waved the guards off, who exchanged looks before returning to their posts. Felix said nothing, simply pushed past the crowd of onlookers and into the foyer of the manner.

Sylvain followed close behind, the elation of seeing his prickly friend clouding any sort of hurt that came from being snubbed so harshly moments before. "That's some greeting. Seems you haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you." Felix said flatly as he headed for the kitchen. Odd, thought Sylvain. Though he supposed that the long journey from...wherever it was Felix had been...had been arduous and food scarce. "I need blankets and furs, and some clean cloth. I'm assuming the bread and milk are in the same place?"

Sylvain watched Felix march right into the kitchen as if he owned the place, his cloak billowing behind him. Sylvain followed, perplexed. Felix was usually headstrong and to the point, but this was...odd. Something was going on and Sylvain had a feeling he was about to hear what.

"I'll have them brought into your room." Because even after all those years, Sylvain still kept a room for Felix. The same he'd slept in when he visited as a child. Although, looking back at those times, Felix didn't often sleep in that bed, preferring to huddle close to Sylvain for warmth. A fond memory for them both, he hoped.

"Fine. Call a doctor while you're at it." Felix grabbed a bowl and tossed in a chunk of bread in before pouring goat's milk over it. Sylvain made a face. _Don't tell me that's how he's been eating while he was away._ The concoction was set down at the table and Felix finally took his cloak off, only to half-wrap, half-drape the thick cloth around something nestled in the crook of his arm.

That something had Sylvain taking a step back. A child. A small one. An infant. _Oh my goddess I was just joking about there being an angry father at the gate!_

Sylvain stared as Felix squished the bread in the milk to soften it before pressing a small morsel to the baby's lips. Said baby took Felix's fingers into his mouth and suckled. The child was thin, rosey-cheeked, with a shock of red hair not unlike Sylvain's own. Sylvain tried to do the math. _Felix. Baby. Felix with baby. Red hair. Wife? Lover? Baby. Of all people--_ "Felix, I'm shocked. Did you get some poor woman knocked up and get saddled with the baby? You dog--"

"Shut up!" Felix barked, finally looking up at him. Where there was distance before there was only anger, "She's yours, you idiot!"

"Huh?" That just made the equation even more confusing. How in the world did Felix have his baby? Sylvain had seen Felix naked more than once. He didn't have the equipment to--

"A village in the south. Overrun by bandits. You were injured. Some woman took care of you." Felix wasn't even pausing long enough for Sylvain to work out the mental math. He was just raging, as if he'd been bottling this up for weeks.

The scariest part? "How'd you know about..."

"Because I went to the same village, a year after the fact. Her mother is dead and they were going to cart her off to some orphanage." Felix's anger seemed to peter out towards the end, replaced with exhaustion. The bags under his eyes and the sway in his posture belayed just how long he'd been traveling without rest. All for this child, for a chance.

The news hit Sylvain like a ton of bricks. He remembered the woman well. She was beautiful, kind, with a sharp tongue. She nursed him back to health after being left on death's door. Much had happened then, things he hadn't spoken of to anyone. His reputation preceded him, as always, and now he was being faced with the consequences thanks to his friend.

Said friend who had traveled hundreds of miles to deliver said consequences.

Sylvain took a seat next to Felix and just stared at the baby. The hair was most definitely his, but her eyes resembled her mother's for sure. He remembered her clearly, her eyes, her smile, how she looked so much like--

"You're the dog here." Felix grumbled, sounding so tired as he continued to feed the child. "Getting a commoner knocked up and not even giving her your name."

Sylvain tensed, "Felix, I can explain."

"Then explain." Felix's voice trembled with what could be either anger, sadness, or just pure exhaustion. Sylvain was having trouble reading which, or if it was all three.

Sylvain licked his lips before speaking, eyes on the child instead of Felix for now. "I was injured, yes. We got ambushed and I was careless, took a spear to the side. At the time I was just posing as a simple lord to take stock of the smaller villages at Dim--at the King's behest. This child's mother saw to my wounds."

That earned him a scoff, "And so you thanked her in your usual manner." ah, that familiar bitterness. Sylvain remembered it well. It stung then and it stung now, Felix's disdain for his courting habits.

Sylvain shook his head, "Hey, cut me some slack. I really cared about her! She was beautiful. Lithe but strong, beautiful hair and eyes..."

Felix's lips turned up in a snarl, "You really haven't changed a bit, have you? How many illegitimate children do you have in the world now? Does your wife know?" Sylvain could practically feel the anger radiating off his old friend. How long had he been bottling all this up? _Likely longer than it took for him to get here_.

But the comment about a wife...That he had to correct.

"Felix, I'm not married."

That seemed to dampen the anger that had welled up in Felix's voice, "You...never married?" the disbelief was clear. With all the talk of settling down and having crest babies when they were younger, it really was a surprise he hadn't married, even to Sylvain himself. He always talked like it was expected of him, and it was. It had been expected of all the heirs. With the neighboring houses being given to the Gautier's to rule, he'd expected dozens of prospects. Yet they were few and far between, and most were after his money. In spite of his reputation, that was something Sylvain didn't want. The man who spoke so freely of love to every woman he met had yet to find it himself.

What he did want...well, he never had the chance to have it. Not with all the tragedy changing them.

Silence fell over them. Felix continued feeding the baby, whispering comforting words to her in a voice so soft it almost hurt Sylvain to hear. It was during that Sylvain finally got a good look at his long lost friend. His hair had grown, now past his shoulders and pulled into a long ponytail. Still no facial hair to speak of, though as Sylvain recalled, Rodrigue barely had any either. His cheeks and ears were red, presumably from being out in the elements for so long. Gautier had such nasty winters thanks to the snow coming down from the mountains. It was likely Felix had been in the thick of it for several days now. _All to make sure this child made it safely to my door..._

"What's her name?" Sylvain asked, voice just as quiet as Felix's. He reached to stroke the child's hair and Felix didn't stop him.

Felix didn't look at him, merely continued feeding the child as if it was his sole task in the world. "Mother didn't have a chance to give her one, I don't think. I've been calling her baby."

"Felix, you can't just _not_ give her a name." Sylvain pat the child's hair, smiling when she looked up at him.

"I figured her_ father_ should name her, since her mother is gone." There was that bitterness again. Sylvain nearly winced.

"Normally fathers get more than a few seconds to think about that kind of thing." Sylvain had expected to someday be a father, but certainly not so suddenly and not an unwed one. Child-rearing wasn't on his agenda even if the process of still very much was. _And I was so careful..._

Felix grumbled something, but continued to feed the baby until she started losing interest in his fingers. Full. Felix laid her against his chest, little chin resting on his shoulder, and began patting her back. It was such a domestic scene that Sylvain couldn't help but smile. Felix didn't allow himself to be soft around many people. Sylvain had always been an exception, rare as said exception was.

"Can I hold her?" Sylvain asked, voice still quiet. Felix finally met his gaze again, infant still held protectively in his arms. At first Sylvain feared Felix wouldn't let her leave his arms, but then she burped and Felix sagged in relief.

"Careful," he said as he handed the swaddled infant to Sylvain, "Support her head. She's only a few months old."

Sylvain did as he was told, carefully holding the child in his arms. The warmth that spread through him was indescribable; a flutter of joy with the pride of seeing one's creation in play. A smile tugged at his lips, and the child grinned up at him in return. "She's beautiful, Felix...has your eyes."

"Shut up." Felix said, though his face flushed. He picked up the bowl of bread and milk and stood. "She's underweight. The village didn't have enough resources to feed her properly. Should probably get her checked out by a doctor." the bowl was set in the basin to be dealt with by the servants later.

The baby cooed in Sylvain's arms and he nearly melted, "Of course. I'll call on Mercedes. She runs an orphanage now, you know."

Felix whirled on him, one hand on the basin, the other pointing accusingly at Sylvain. "Sylvain Jose Gautier, I swear to the goddess if you turn her over to an orphanage after I came all the way here--"

"Whoa, take it easy, Fe!" Sylvain held the child close to his chest, almost protectively. Even she was staring at Felix in confusion. "I didn't say I was giving her up!"

"Then why--" before Felix could question him further, he swayed heavily to his left and staggered. Sylvain watched as all the strength left his friend's body at once, his legs buckling before he could right himself. Felix collapsed, as if the need to give the child safe passage had been the only thing keeping him upright.

"Felix?" Sylvain was on his feet immediately, holding his daughter protectively to his chest. Felix had mentioned calling a doctor, but he assumed it was just for the baby, not him. "Felix?! _Shit!_" Sylvain barked orders to the servants; calls for a doctor and then some. The servants were rightly confused, not only by the return of the once Head of House Fraldarius, but the presence of an infant that looked an awful lot like Sylvain in their lord's arms.

Things were happening way too fast and all Sylvain could do was hold on to the child--_his_ child--while the servants carried Felix off to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written a fic in 2.5 years and of course the first one I do is going to be this fluffy bullshit. I don't know how long this will be if I'm honest. Hope y'all like domestic fluff!
> 
> I will say now I have zero intention to depict any harm to Sylvain's baby. Not my wheelhouse. The child abuse tag is in reference to Miklan.
> 
> Follow me on twitter @rottenadel!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix isn't immune to attachment, much to his chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags specific to this chapter: illness, exhaustion, Felix's temper, Sylvain being Sylvain

By the time Felix awoke, it was night. At least that's what he assumed by the dark room and the flickering torches overhead. While his brain remained in a fog, he registered that he was in a bed, shirtless yet feeling too hot, but otherwise safe. The room around him signaled safety. It was Sylvain's room, the very same he'd spent so much time in as a child.

How long had it been since he was last in that room, laying in that bed? Years, easily. Probably since before the end of the war. When there was still conflict, when he had Sylvain had fought at one another's side, returning to the manor to nurse their wounds while waiting for a miracle to happen to turn the tide of war. A miracle that came in the form of their beloved professor long thought lost, whom now stood at the king's side.

A happy ending, one Felix didn't see for himself. That was why he took up his sword and left everyone behind, became a wandering mercenary earning coin with his strength and his strength alone. Meandering from town to town, no purpose, no end in sight, until he came across that village...

The village. The old woman. The baby. _My baby_.

Felix sat bolt upright, ignoring the dizziness and nausea that came with the motion. His gaze darted around the room, unfocused and frantic. Where was the child? The little girl he'd travel so far to deliver to safety--

"Easy, Fe." soft words, soothing hands against his shoulders, guiding him to lay back down. Felix would have resisted if he hadn't felt what little strength he had sapped from the act of sitting up alone. His head met the pillows, but the fear remained, only marginally dissipated by the sight of Sylvain at his side.

"My baby." Felix mumbled as he tried to sit up again. No such luck. "Where's my baby?"

"The baby is fine, Fe." Sylvain gestured to a bassinet set up at his bedside. There was a thick fur draped over it, shielding the infant from the cold.

Just seeing that she was nearby was enough to ease his fears. He relaxed boneless onto the bed, the spinning of the room around him reminding Felix that he definitely didn't need to be moving just yet. "What happened?"

"You collapsed. You had a nice combo of exhaustion, exposure, and illness to thank for that. It's a wonder you made it all the way here with all your fingers and toes."

Of course he'd collapsed. He'd been journeying non-stop to get from that middle of nowhere village to House Gautier, resting only long enough to care for the baby or buy supplies. And what respite he'd allowed himself was spent soothing the child, talking to her, making sure she was okay...

It'd proven quite stressful in more ways than one. Yet any regret felt was chased away by that little smile and the sweet giggles the child would make.

Felix looked up at Sylvain, who himself appeared as though he hadn't slept yet. Had he been taking care of the both of them? "How long was I out?"

"Half a day, maybe. Long enough for me to get supplies from the town and track down a wet nurse. The baby is malnourished, though probably not as bad off as she was."

The look on Felix's face was nothing short of disgruntled, "I was doing the best I could, Sylvain."

"No, no, I'm not insulting you." Sylvain waved his hands in defense, chuckling nervously. "It's not like you could have breastfed a baby. You were doing what you could with what you had. Just given the option, I'd rather hire a wet nurse for her."

Felix made a non-committal grunt and tried to sit up again, slower that time. He got as far as sagging against the headboard before tiring out. "Thanks for taking care of her..."

"Of course," Sylvain said with his usual, carefree smile. "What kind of noble lord would I be if I left a helpless baby to starve?"

Felix glared. If looks could kill, Sylvain would've been dead three times over. "You _did_ leave a helpless baby to starve, you moron."

The smile remained, but Sylvain's shoulders tensed. "N-not quite but..." he allowed the smile to fade, his gaze becoming distant, only vaguely focused on the blankets covering Felix. "No, you're right. I messed up big time. I'll defend that I had reasons for what I did, but I had no idea that..."

"No idea that sex led to babies?" groused Felix. 

Sylvain sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat, "Fe, this wasn't supposed to happen. I was being careful, and I mean it when I said I did care about her."

"Careful, but not careful enough." Felix huffed, "And apparently you didn't care enough to stick around or take her with you. You probably don't even remember her name."

"Felicity." Sylvain stated, voice flat. "Her name was Felicity. Her husband died in the war. She took care of my wounds after the mercs I hired fled during the ambush." there was a touch of sorrow there. Nostalgia tinged with grief. "She knew I was a lord and had no interest in elevating her status, just in taking care of those who couldn't take care of themselves. That's why she stayed. She probably had no idea she was with child when I left."

In spite of his anger, Felix believed everything Sylvain said. The tone of his voice was enough to convince him of his genuineness. In all the years they'd known each other, one thing had stayed the same; Sylvain may have been an incorrigible flirt, but he did care about people. Laid low by bandits and left to die, saved by the peasants of that village, by that woman...He probably did hold feelings for her. Because shielding his name and lineage meant she only saw him as he was, not the noble crest he was made out to be.

She was probably someone Sylvain truly could come to love if circumstances had been different. Who could love him for _him_.

But they hadn't become anything. And so she died after having Sylvain's child.

Knowledge of this weighed heavily on Felix. The woman Sylvain would have loved was long dead and her child would forever be a reminder of her. Sylvain needed to take responsibility for his actions as well the child. Years of skirt-chasing and this was his comeuppance, a child born out of wedlock.

_It's not the child's fault she was born._ Felix reminded himself. _It wouldn't be fair to treat her like that. Like a burden..._ The thought alone made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want that for her; to be a regret, a constant reminder of what could have been and what would never be. He wanted better for her. He wasn't her father and yet...

_ I guess toting an infant for three weeks across the country can get you a little attached... _

"Still with me, Fe?" Sylvain pat Felix's hand, making him flinch. Felix blinked owlishly at his friend, who's cheerful expression was now mixed with concern.

Felix made a noncommittal noise and reached a shaky hand to scrub at his face. "So now what?"

Sylvain quirked a brow, "What do you mean, _now what?_"

Felix gave an almost exasperated growl. "The baby, you great idiot. What will you do with the baby?"

"Raise her, of course." Sylvain answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm taking responsibility for my actions, like you always said I should. So I'm going to raise her here."

It almost felt too easy. Felix had spent weeks going over varying grandiose lectures about responsibility and playing with others' hearts, about setting an example and just being a _good fucking person_. All to convince Sylvain he shouldn't give up his own flesh and blood. He didn't want her to be a regret but he didn't want her to be alone and unloved.

But Sylvain had just...accepted. He was accepting his role as the father and going to take care of her.

Felix sighed in relief. At the very least the arduous journey had not been for nothing. He knew he'd been ill for several days, but hadn't stopped to rest because he feared what would happen to the baby if he dallied for too long. She was already so small and frail, he couldn't bear the idea of her becoming sick in his care.

So he'd kept pushing himself, shielding her from the wind, stopping beneath the shelter of trees and abandoned outposts to soothe her when she cried, feed and bathe her when the need called. When he stopped for rest he slept with her laying on his chest, wrapped up in blankets and furs, calming her with soft words and softer touches until she fell asleep.

All for Sylvain's child.

Soft whimpers arose from the bassinet and Sylvain had to stop Felix from addressing them with one hand to his chest. "You're sick. Stay in bed."

Felix obeyed, only partly because of Sylvain's command. The rest was all malaise. Even without his shirt he felt way too hot. Still feverish. Still weak. Felix _hated_ feeling weak...

Sylvain pulled the swaddled infant from her bassinet and held her in his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart. Daddy's here."

Felix made a face. The word daddy coming from Sylvain in any capacity was going to take some getting used to. He watched the man coo at his child, tickling her cheeks, speaking softly to her, gently rocking her so she'd settle again. "She's not so good at sleeping through he night, is she?" asked Sylvain while he continued to rock the infant.

"She'd wake when I'd wake." Which as both of them knew was quite often. Felix hadn't been a sound sleeper since Duscur. If he wasn't on alert for potential enemies, he was having nightmares. First of Glenn's death, then of so many others..."She'll get used to it now that we're not on the move."

"You had her sleeping with you?" Sylvain asked while combing fingers through the child's wild red hair. She'd been given a bath while Felix rested and her hair was fluffy and bright.

Felix made a soft noise of affirmation, "If she wasn't, I'd wake up worried she'd be gone, so I slept with her on me." He pat his bare chest where she would lay.

The crooked smile returned to Sylvain's face. "Aww, Fe! I didn't take you for the maternal type!"

"Watch it." Felix growled and scrubbed at his face again. "She's yours, of course I'm protective of her."

Oops. That wasn't how that was supposed to come out. He hadn't consciously realized that the reason he was so angry about the child's fate was _because_ she was Sylvain's flesh and blood. A product of a man who meant more to him than he was willing to admit, someone whom, Felix reminded himself, never properly returned his feelings. And he'd even jumped at the chance to take the child to her supposed father without even knowing if she was truly his. Why? To prove a point? To see Sylvain again?

_This won't stand. I need to...Not be here._

To escape any potential jabs he had coming, Felix attempted to get out of bed again, getting only as far as swinging his legs over the edge. Felix swayed dangerously forward before Sylvain managed to catch him with one outstretched arm. "Felix, seriously. Stay in bed. I got her."

"Good, you got her. My job is done then." Felix quipped before pushing Sylvain's arm away with a shaking hand. But Sylvain wasn't budging and Felix hadn't the strength nor will to fight him physically, especially not with a baby in his arms.

"Felix, lay down. That's an order." there was a warning in his voice. One that Felix didn't take kindly.

"You're not my superior, Sylvain. Let me go." another attempt at shoving Sylvain's arm away, still fruitless. His strength was sapped and the dizziness was settling in again.

It seemed that time Sylvain wasn't going to take it sitting down. He pulled his arm away just long enough to settle his child back in her bassinet, allowing Felix just enough time to attempt getting to his feet. A wave of dizziness hit and Felix swayed, but just as he feared he'd fall again he was swept up bodily into strong arms. "I'm not your superior, I'm your _friend_. But if the only way to get you to lay down and rest is for a superior to tell you so, then I'd be glad to call upon the king or archbishop for a favor."

Felix stared up at him, eyes wide and face flushed with fever and embarrassment both. It was so easy for Sylvain to just pick him up that it was damn near mortifying. And to get told off like that...

Maybe some things had changed over the years.

Finally he relented, head sagging against Sylvain's shoulder. "Fine. I'll stay in bed. But you have to promise me you'll take care of her."

"I have every intention of caring for her, Felix." Sylvain laid Felix among the sheets, pulling blankets over him once he was settled. Felix melted into the warmth of furs and quilts with a soft sigh. He really wasn't well enough to leave just yet.

The baby gurgled and Sylvain's attention was back on her. He resumed babbling to her, all smiles. Felix found it rather cute in spite of all the vinegar laced into the current situation. It'd been so long since he'd seen Sylvain, let alone gotten to talk to him. So long that he'd almost forgotten how at ease he felt around him. His childhood friend, his confidante, his first--

"Will you stay?" Sylvain pierced his reverie like an arrow.

"Huh?"

He looked at him, expression so soft, yet worn. "Will you stay here a while, make sure I'm doin' this right? It's kinda obvious you don't want to just leave her with me."

Felix made a face and looked away, "Says you. I said was going to bring her to you so you'd finally take responsibility for your lecherous ways."

"Felix, you called her _your_ baby."

"What? I didn't--" Felix cut himself short. In his panic upon waking, he had, hadn't he? He flushed furiously and buried his face in both hands. "Shut up. You tote her around for weeks and try not to get a little attached."

"A little?" Sylvain chuckled. Another whimper from the bassinet and he was holding the child once more. "I can't blame you. She's pretty cute. Aren't you, sweetie?" he tickled her chin and kissed her cheek. The child squealed in delight. "She really needs to sleep though. Can you help me?"

Felix grumbled and shifted so he was halfway to sitting up. "What do you want me to do? You told me to rest."

"Exactly." Then, the child was settled against Felix's chest. Felix quickly settled back, hands on her tiny form to support her. He watched as she snuggled against his bare skin and settled down, soothed by the strong rhythm of his heart. Felix melted again. It was hard to stay angry when one had an adorable baby dozing on you.

Sylvain watched him a moment, as if to marvel at the ease in which Felix could soothe the child with his presence, the same smile as always on his face. But there was something else in his gaze, something Felix hadn't thought about in a long time.

This time it was Felix who broke the silence, "Have you thought of a name yet?" he asked, calloused fingers rubbing small circles along the child's back. She was already half asleep.

Sylvain nodded, "While you slept, I thought of a few. Wanted your opinion on them."

"Why my opinion? I'm not her father."

"Felix you rescued her from poverty and traveled across the country to bring her here. I think that gives you say in what I name her."

Felix grumbled something about responsibility and having a _goddess be damned conscience_ under his breath. "Fine. What names."

"Well, Clara sounded nice. I thought Clara Artemis or Clara Victoria."

_Clara._ Clara seemed like a good name for her. Clarity, clear, bright. It sounded nice. "Artemis. Victoria sounds too Adrestian."

Now Sylvain was making the face, "Yeah that's a bit sore still." As much as they were trying to work through what happened years back, Felix and Sylvain both were haunted by nightmares of the conflict, even with the relative peace over the land. "Then...Clara Artemis Fraldarius Gautier. How's that sound?"

Felix flushed, "Why is Fraldarius in there? She's not--"

"You said you'd stay and help raise her, right?" That mischievous smile was back. Felix wanted to either punch it or kiss it. Both, maybe.

"Sylvain, I swear--" he warned, but the child--Clara--stirred against his chest, which took the fight out of him immediately.

Sylvain patted her hair, "That settles it. Her name is Clara."

_He did this on purpose._ Felix thought while soothing Clara back into slumber. He was far too tired to deal with Sylvain's bullshit and less than willing to wake Clara up so he could tell him off. Instead Felix just sagged into the pillows again. "You better be serious about this. No more cavorting with random women. I'll break your legs."

"Whoa, easy." Again his hands were up in defense. "I'm being sincere here. I wanna give her a good home, so help me out?" that winning smile, that comforting hand on his shoulder. Felix couldn't say no even if he tried.

He shrugged the hand off and closed his eyes, "Fine."

With that decided, Felix finally allowed himself some proper rest, knowing that Sylvain was watching over the both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix has some baggage, and sometimes it comes to collect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I can keep this pace. But as usual for me, angst comes easy.  
Upped the rating to be safe. Enjoy!
> 
> Tags specific to this chapter: blood, gore, nightmares, emeto

Rest was so much easier when he was younger. Back then, Felix would find comfort in Sylvain’s company, snuggling close to his friend when the world got to be too much. It was no secret that he was a bit of a crybaby when they were kids. Whenever he got into a spat with his friends or Glenn went too hard during training, he wound up in Sylvain’s arms. And Sylvain would pat his hair and comfort him, never once admonishing him for being so upfront with his feelings.

Then Glenn died and with him so did his childhood. Looking back, Felix was sure that was when things went downhill for him. Emotionally, anyway. Physically it went well, but that’s what happened when you prioritize training over interpersonal relations.

Yet even then Sylvain stuck with him, as cavalier as always, seemingly unchanged by the cruelty the world showed him.

No. No, Sylvain had definitely changed.

While Felix would sometimes be upset over tiffs with his loved ones or frustrated over his own lack of strength, he knew Sylvain had things worse, what with how Miklan treated him. He remembered asking about the bruises on Sylvain’s neck, the rope burn on his wrists, the cruel things Miklan would spit at him when he passed by. Felix wanted to fight him so badly even back then, force him to treat Sylvain better, his own flesh and blood. His brother.

When they finally faced him, twisted into something inhuman, Felix felt a strange sense of relief. The man had finally become what he was on the inside; a monster set on destroying others. And Sylvain was the one to cut him down.

It should have been a victory, yet they felt hollow. Felix knew the man would never hurt any of them again, and it was that which made Sylvain smile, even if it was forced.

Felix knew better. He knew better than anyone that it was a front. While he coped with his negative emotions by pushing people away, Sylvain coped by seeking comfort in anyone who would give it to him.

Even Felix himself.

The night after Miklan was slain was the first night Sylvain came to Felix for comfort. Felix let him, knowing full well it was out of desperation, a need to be touched, to feel wanted, _ alive _ . And Felix reveled in it. Even if it was just for a night, he could feel like he was Sylvain’s one and only. The person who was allowed to see him, the _ real _ him, and not just the nonchalant philanderer.

They agreed to keep the night between them for the sake of their friendship, their status, and their own reputations.

It was not the last night they’d seek each other out. It was give as much as take; sometimes Felix would go to him, sometimes Sylvain to Felix. They’d partake in each other’s bodies to forget the terror of war around them. Douse their grief with lust, drown each other in kisses and wanton touch. And the next day it would be as though nothing happened. The other would be gone from bed by sunrise. Felix would be off to train. Sylvain off to chase skirts. They’d be friends and comrades on the battlefield, nothing more.

That’s what Felix told himself again and again. Friends, nothing more. Sylvain would find a woman to marry, or at least a steady girlfriend, and their affair would come to an end. Knowing this, Felix told himself he was fine keeping Sylvain at arms’ length. It was fine because it was necessary for his sanity in more ways than one.

The last time they had sex was after Rodrigue died.

Felix would be the first to admit that he and his father had their differences. Since Glenn’s passing, he’d been distant, wishing for his eldest son to return while practically ignoring his youngest who was still alive, still fighting for his country. He’d been more of a father to Dimitri than his own son. It angered him, embittered him, drove him to train as if getting stronger was the only solution, the only way for his father to see him.

When he fell, Felix hid his grief as best as he could until he was sure he was alone. And alone was where Sylvain would find him, curled unto himself and crying harder than he had in years. Sylvain held him, kissed his tears and carried him to bed. He held him during, and after, whispered how much he meant to him, how much he _ cared _, until all Felix could think about was Sylvain.

_ “I’m here, Fe. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. See? I won’t leave you…” _

Felix wanted to believe his words. He wanted so desperately for it to be true. He wanted to be…

* * *

He woke with a start, a soft gasp and the feeling that something was missing weighing heavily in his chest. The sun was up, light filtering in from drawn curtains. He scrubbed at his sweaty face and groaned. Felix didn’t think it was possible to feel_ worse _ than he had the night before. Now he was soaked with sweat, shaky, and feeling as though he’d taken a full force Fimbulvetr to the chest he was so cold. More pressingly, his head was pounding with the memories of that last night with Sylvain. Of course it was. Sylvain had been rudely occupying his dreams off and on for years. Naturally he’d continue doing so even more persistently now that Felix was back in Gautier.

Back in Gautier...

Right, he was back in Gautier because…

Felix bolted upright, looking around the room. The something that was missing was Clara. Her bassinet was gone and so was Sylvain. Panic flooded his senses; Clara was gone. His baby--no, _ Sylvain’s baby _ , goddess be damned he was _ not _ her father-- was nowhere in sight. He climbed out of bed and stumbled for the door. Dizziness and fever be damned, he needed to find Clara.

“Sylvain!” Felix shout, voice hoarse and throat too dry. “Sylvain! Where are you?!” he wished he sounded angrier than he did, but his voice only managed to sound desperate, frightened. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak that he had to lean against the wall as he walked down the hall, seeking the red-headed bastard that started this whole mess. “Sylvain!”

Sylvain peeked out of the doorway of the room at the very end of the hall, as did an unknown woman. The sight alone was enough to make Felix stumble faster towards him, fueled by rage alone. _ Of course there’s another woman. Of course-- _

“Whoa, Felix. Settle down!” Sylvain caught him by the shoulders, which was the only reason Felix hadn’t swung at him. “You shouldn’t be out of bed--”

“Where’s Clara?!” he barked, gripping Sylvain’s arms part to threaten, part to keep himself upright. “And who’s that woman?!” It felt like the floor was trying to dip out beneath him, or was it his legs giving again?

Details. He had questions and Felix demanded answers. 

“Goddess, Felix, can you cool it, please?!” Sylvain would almost sound annoyed if he didn’t sound so worried. Felix imagined he must look like luke-warm roadkill if Sylvain was that concerned. “Clara’s fine. That woman is Celia, her wet nurse.”

Felix glanced past Sylvain to see the woman peeking out from behind the door frame. She locked eyes with Felix and shrunk away, frightened.

Right. Wet nurse. Sylvain had sent for one. It wasn’t Sylvain having yet another tryst with his daughter in the house. Clara was fine. Everything was _ fine _.

Felix toppled to one side and sagged against the wall. The fire gone, he was left feeling spent once more. Thankfully, Sylvain got an arm around his waist before he could slip completely to the floor. “There we go, let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m f--”

“Felix.” Any protest was cut off with Sylvain’s stern tone. Felix hung his head sheepishly. He was most certainly _ not fine _ and there was no way he was going to convince Sylvain otherwise.

Soon he found himself back in bed, head reeling from the sudden exertion. Sylvain took a seat on the bed beside him, shaking his head. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Felix rolled onto his side, facing away from Sylvain as he curled up. “I woke up and Clara was gone. I freaked out.” plain and simple, or so he hoped Sylvain would believe. He didn’t want to admit that seeing Sylvain in the presence of another woman filled him with such fiery rage that he could probably outdo Linhardt’s casting skills with spite alone. Definitely not a good look for him.

Unfortunately for Felix, Sylvain wasn’t buying it. “And you saw Celia and assumed she was another rando and you were out to break my legs.”

Felix tensed. Nail on the head. Curse Sylvain’s ability to read him. _ Or am I just that predictable? _

His lack of response earned him a sigh, “Ya know, if this is gonna work, you’re gonna have to trust me a bit more, Fe.”

“Is _ what _ gonna work? I agreed to help you figure out how to raise a baby, nothing more.” Felix didn’t want to look at him. He was _ embarrassed _ by his own actions, how he jumped so quickly to conclusions, of how _ jealous _ he felt. Over a wet nurse no less! His ears were practically burning.

Sylvain didn’t contest his words. He merely placed a hand on his friend’s shoulders, “Listen to me; I get it. You’re worried about how this’ll go, but there’s no need to bite my head off. I meant what I said about trying.”

The hand was shrugged away, “You’ve been _ trying _ since we were students at Garreg Mach. What’s so different now?” bitterness was creeping into his voice. He didn’t want to be this upset over stupid Sylvain and his stupid habits, but he was! He was upset back then and nothing changed. Didn’t Sylvain know that? Had he really been that dense?

The hand was on his shoulder again, “We both know the war changed us. You know I haven’t slept with anyone since Felicity, right? That was a year ago…”

Felix gritted his teeth. Even the mention of her name was enough to make his blood boil. The woman that Sylvain cared about so much that he wanted to take her back to Gautier, start a life with her--

His jealousy spiral was cut off by the beginnings of a cry from the hall. Felix pushed the blankets off himself and was once again struggling to get out of bed. Sylvain put a stop to that before his feet even touched the floor. “Lay down, I got her.”

Sylvain was up and out in the hall before Felix could protest. He returned with a fussy Clara, dressed in a simple white cotton gown with a bonnet over her head to help keep her warm. It was probably the most clothing she’d ever been made to wear in her short life. As soon as she saw Felix, she reached her little arms out to him.

“I think she wants you.”

Felix held out shaking arms in return, face soft and yet worried. Sylvain handed her over and Felix immediately cradled her to his chest. A wave of relief washed over him, the missing feeling replaced with a fondness he had yet to fully understand.

Sylvain took a seat next to him, watching the two. “You really are attached to her, aren’t you?”

That earned Sylvain a glare, “I don’t think I need to remind you what we went through to get here.”

“I get it.” Sylvain rubbed Felix’s knee. This time, Felix wasn’t pulling away. “You care about her, so that’s why you’re freaking out so bad, right? You want to make sure she’s in good hands.”

There was no denying it, was there? One look at Clara and he was melting. It’d been less than a month since he’d found her and yet he was pretty sure he’d take an arrow or five for her. The question was, was it because of those weeks together, or was it simply because she was Sylvain’s child, a part of him he could cherish in spite of the emotional distance between them?

He had a feeling it was a mix of both and that was half the problem. The other half was the way Sylvain was looking at him. Felix never knew someone could make affection look so damned smug.

Clara gurgled and only then did Felix break his gaze away from Sylvain. “You’re still not off the hook.” he warned, “I’m going to watch you to make sure you don’t mess up.”

“Jeez, way to put pressure on a guy.” Sylvain scratched the back of his head, almost nervous. “I won’t mess up. And if I do, I accept my punishment.” a pause, “Just...don’t break my legs, please? I’m serious, I’m not even going into the town to cruise anymore.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You mean when you _ don’t _ see it?”

And back to glaring.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to be on my best behavior to set a proper example for Clara, but you gotta give too.” Sylvain pet his knee. Again, Felix didn’t pull away.

“What is it you want me to do?” asked Felix, voice flat. Clara was patting his cheek.

“You can start by actually staying in bed and resting. Clara will be fine. The servants are helping me set up her room.”

_ That explains what they were doing at the end of the hall. _ The room had belonged to Miklan, when Miklan was still allowed at the manor. Felix tried not to think about what he got up to in there or what kind of memories the place held for Sylvain. _ Maybe that’s why he chose that one; to make some better memories. _

“I want her to sleep in here with me.” Felix said quietly, not meeting Sylvain’s gaze.

That brought the man pause, “In here? I hate to break it to you, Fe, but this is my room. I’m happy to share a bed with you--”

“Then move us to my room. I just…” Felix sighed. He felt so tired and shaky. He hated it. “I can’t rest easy if she’s not nearby, okay? At least for now, put her bassinet next to my bed.”

Sylvain watched him a moment, then chuckled. “There are those maternal instincts again.”

“Breaking your legs is still on the table.”

“Okay, the bassinet goes in your room.”

“Good.”

* * *

Felix drifted in and out of sleep for most of the day. The doctor came to check on him, noting he was still feverish and far too weak to be out of bed. He was given bitter herbs and told to rest. Magic was no substitute for recuperation, he’d said. Felix would have protested if Sylvain hadn't been sitting at his bedside looking so damned concerned. He held his tongue, took the medicine, and allowed himself to sleep.

It was true what they said; once the adrenaline left your system, everything hit you at once. The journey to Gautier had filled him with fear and a visceral need to protect those he held dear, just as a battle would. The end result was Felix having pushed himself beyond the brink and he was paying for it.

It left him feeling useless, irritable, and both were gradually morphing into a sense of vulnerability that made Felix itch to do _ something _ . Train outside, run laps around the grounds, repair his gear, _ anything _ except lay in bed and wait until he was better.

_ I feel like the professor would be shaking their head at me if they saw me now. _

At least he could take solace in knowing Clara was okay. The doctor had proclaimed Felix not contagious, so Sylvain had set her up in his room as he requested and helped move him there shortly after. The fresh sheets were nice, as was the familiar surroundings, but Felix found himself missing the scent of eastern soaps and cologne he’d come to identify with Sylvain. He hated to admit how much comfort such scents brought him.

How much comfort the _man himself_ brought him.

Sylvain had peeked in on him throughout the day and each time Felix had shooed him off. “Go play with your daughter if you have time to dote on me.” he’d said. His attempts to sound put-off were thwarted by the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was hard to stay angry at Sylvain when he looked so damn elated.

Sylvain had been true to his word; he was trying his best to do good by Clara. He had his servants on deck to help take care of the baby while he himself tended to his lordly duties. He’d sent word to Mercedes to ask for advice about caring for the newborn and even sent a letter via owl to Dimitri and Byleth to share the news. For all intents and purposes, he was playing the part of a proud father, unabashedly announcing the new addition to the Gautier family.

It made Felix smile, seeing how excited Sylvain was to have Clara in his life. It made the whole ordeal worth it, his own personal hang-ups aside.

By the time evening fell, Felix wasn’t doing much better. A pair of servants had brought him a warm broth and bread to eat before taking Clara to her room to play. As much as Felix wanted to keep her nearby, he didn’t have the strength to care for her and it wasn’t fair to keep her in her cradle all day. At the very least the servants were ones he recognized, having been in the Gautier’s employ for decades. Sylvain wouldn’t have kept them around if they weren’t trustworthy.

That left Felix alone in his room, staring at the canopy of his bed while trying his best to collect his thoughts into something coherent. So much had happened and he didn’t feel he had sufficient mental capacity to sort through it all. There were a number of things to consider; whether or not he wanted to stay, whether he wanted to stay for Clara, Sylvain, or his own benefit. Whether he’d be content there, or if he’d go stir crazy and try to cut and run again. If staying would bring him happiness or more heartbreak. If there was still anything between Sylvain and him that would sway him to stay.

That last one he wasn’t quite ready to consider. _ Damn this fever… _

He’d be better in a few days, he told himself. Better and able to make a proper decision about what to do next. Not one fueled by jealousy, distrust, and old flames.

Felix rolled onto his side and curled up to warm himself. His fever must’ve been spiking again, for he shivered in spite of the sweat on his skin. Felix wrapped his arms around himself and tried to get comfortable beneath the heavy quilts of his bed. He almost wished Sylvain would poke his head in if only so he’d have some company in his misery, even if for a brief moment.

_ It hurts to think about how much I want him by my side. I’ve gone so long without him, but… _

Felix thought of Sylvain’s smile, his strong yet gentle grasp steadying him, the way he said the nickname only _ he _ was allowed to say because _ he _ was the one that dared to give it to him. The warmth he felt when he was around, the way Sylvain understood his mannerisms, his prickly nature, the pain behind it. Those nights they shared comforting each other with reassuring words at first, then with their bodies…

All those feelings thought long dead, buried for years--out of sight and out of mind, _ because I put him out of mind _\--were being unearthed once more, like a barely covered corpse in a fierce deluge.

Just like before, Sylvain’s very presence threatened to erode away his carefully crafted barriers. The only thing that kept him safe from the pain that the world sought to give him.

The torches along the walls flickered out, then the hearth, leaving Felix in darkness. He cursed and forced himself upright in his bed. Of course the fire would go out just when he needed the warmth the most. That would just _ fucking _ figure…

Felix swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully rose to his feet. He needed to stoke the fire back to life. Surely he could manage at least that.

He heard a shout and froze halfway between the bed and the hearth. Years of war had taught him to be hypervigilant of his surroundings. Anything out of place could be a potential threat. It could have been as simple as a servant stubbing his toe, or as dangerous as an assassin making a move within the manor. Felix wasn’t going to wait around and find out.

Felix went to the side of his bed where he stowed his sword, only to find it missing. He cursed; of course Sylvain would hide his weapon. Probably to keep him from running off without telling him. Felix growled and decided his fists were as good as anything when it came to protecting himself in close quarters. He hadn’t spent years sparring with Raphael for nothing.

Felix pushed through the door of his quarters and into the dark hall. Seems all the torches had been extinguished. No sound, no movement, no signs of life. A deep cold set into his very bones. Something was wrong.

From the window he saw an eerie orange glow and he was hit with the pungent scent of smoke and burning flesh. Felix sucked in a breath. Fire. There was fire. Something was _ wrong _.

Felix rushed down the stairs to the foyer, throwing the doors open. Outside was a sea of carnage. Guards, mercenaries, commoners alike strewn about the grounds like discarded toys from a moody goddess. Their bodies were twisted, bloody, pierced with arrows, swords, spears, burns. Felix felt he recognized some of them, yet he couldn’t make out their faces through the gore. The uniforms alone gave them away. And there were flames. Shouts. Men fighting on the grounds. An ambush, a skirmish, _ something _ had happened while he lay in his sickbed, waffling over his own worthless emotions.

Felix pushed through while covering his mouth and nose with his hand in a poor attempt to filter the smoke. “Sylvain!” He shout. If there was fighting, Sylvain would be in the thick of it, protecting his home and the people. “Sylvain, where are you?!” He had to help. He was able to stand, he was able to fight. Bare fisted or no, he just needed to find the enemy. That’s how he could help. He could protect--

Over the din of the battle, Felix heard it. A soft wail. A child.

_ Clara_.

Felix whipped his head around, seeking the source of the sound. “Clara!” he shouted as he was finally able to pinpoint the direction her frightened cries came from. He ran, stumbling over corpses of soldiers and academy students alike, falling flat into the cold mud more than once. Yet he kept going, spotting a man in familiar armor crouched on the ground, huddled over something. _Someone._

“Sylvain!” The briefest of relief. If Sylvain had Clara, she was safe. Sylvain would keep her safe. He’d promised, hadn’t he? To care for her, to make sure she--

Felix stumbled over his own feet. So tired, so cold, but so _ close _. He just had to make it to Sylvain, then he could grab Clara. Once he’d gotten her to safety, he’d get his sword and join the fray. They’d protect their home. They’d done it countless times. This was no different.

His energy left him so rapidly that by the time he reached Sylvain’s side he’d no strength left to stand. Felix collapsed to his knees, reaching shaky hands to his friend, to the infant he’d protectively curled himself around. “Sylvain, give her to me. I’ll take her somewhere safe.”

Nothing. No answer.

“Damn it, Sylvain! Give her to me!” his voice was strained, rough and choked with smoke. He pushed at Sylvain’s shoulders but the man didn’t budge. It was only then that he noticed the arrows piercing his armor, blood seeping beneath the metal plating. A dozen of them--how had he not noticed?-- buried deep into his flesh.

Felix forgot how to breathe, “Sylvain, you--!”

Sylvain looked up at him, eyes hollow, skin pale. He smiled weakly even as blood flowed from his mouth and down his chin. Clara continued to wail in his arms.

“Felix, I--” Sylvain started to speak but Felix couldn’t hear him. The sounds of battle rose to a deafening roar. They were coming. They were going to kill them, all three of them. Felix reached to take Clara from Sylvain’s arms, but couldn’t get a grip on her. She wailed and wailed but he couldn’t pull her into his arms and to safety. Felix screamed for Sylvain to let go, to not be an idiot and let him save her, _ at least her._ Then the soldiers converged on them, grabbing Felix, tearing him away from the people he wanted to protect, pushing him down into the mud, smothering him. The cries of war turned into screams of horror and hatred and the world spun around him. He could hear them now. Their anguish, _ murderer. You will die for what you did. _

The frigid dark rose up all around him and he felt like he was drowning in it, dragged down by the malice of all the people he faced on the battlefield. They held his head under, choked him, tore at his skin and clothes, and all he could do was scream for help.

_ Please, _ he begged, arms reaching out to the last patch of light, Sylvain’s bloodied, smiling face. _ Please, I don’t want this! It hurts! Please, help me! Sylvain! Sylvain, please! It hurts, Sylvain! Sylvain!! _

“Felix!”

Felix’s eyes snapped open, his breath coming in sharp pants. He was on the floor of his room, legs tangled in the blankets, Sylvain crouching over him with both hands on Felix’s wrists. The torches were lit, the hearth was burning merrily, and Felix was both too hot and too cold at once.

Felix wrenched his arms free and rolled onto his side. He retched up the broth and bread he’d managed to get into him onto the cold floor, a painful sob following. Then another, until the tears were flowing freely and Felix could barely hold himself up. A dream. Goddess it’d been a dream but…

“Fe...it’s okay.” Sylvain lifted him with ease, cradling him against his chest. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Felix clung to him as hard as he could, hand fisted in the fabric of Sylvain’s shirt. A dream. It was a dream. There was no fire, no battle, no death. It was probably the worst nightmare he’d had in some time, the trauma of war amplified ten-fold by once buried emotions.

“You were dead.” Felix managed between hiccuping sobs, “You were full of arrows and trying to protect Clara, and they...they dragged me…” he squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to control his breathing. If this were any other time and he were alone, he would have walked through his groundings, splashed cold water on his face, and gone back to sleep. But this wasn’t just some old wound his consciousness decided to dredge up to remind him of the horrors of war. This was some cruel, twisted vision of a hell he never wanted to step foot in again. A hell where he’d been wholly unable to prevent Sylvain’s death, where he had come too late and was unable to save even an infant from death’s grasp.

Weak, powerless, terrified, and so alone.

“Clara’s fine.” Sylvain said while holding Felix close. “She’s asleep in her bassinet, right there.” he motioned to the bassinet just a few feet away. It was a miracle he hadn’t woken her up; Felix was sure he’d been screaming. He almost always ended up screaming…

Felix drew in a shaky breath and scrubbed at his face, “Damn it.” he choked out, still shaking, so cold, so _ afraid _. “I...fuck, Sylvain, you were dead. I couldn’t get to you in time and you were--”

Sylvain shushed him, fingers running through his sweat-soaked hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. See?” he smiled and the relief Felix felt when there was no blood seeping from his lips was indescribable. Sylvain was okay. They were all okay. Felix sagged against his chest and allowed himself to cry.

“Sylvain…” he muttered, face buried against the cloth of Sylvain’s night shirt. “Sylvain, please…”

Sylvain wrapped his arms around Felix’s shoulders and held him close, as if that alone could protect him from the very nightmares that plagued him.

“I’m here, Fe. I won’t leave you...”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's progress, but it's always two steps forward, one step back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags specific to this chapter: Felix's emotional constipation

When Felix next woke he was in his bed. He felt better, marginally. His head wasn’t pounding nearly as much and his skin didn’t feel like it was about to peel off from the mix of heat and cold. A vast improvement considering how rough the previous night had been.

Felix remembered it in patches, his head still a fog as he came out of a hard sleep. He recalled in vivid detail the nightmare he had, the feeling of blood on his fingers and unearthly cold hands on his back, the wails of the child he couldn’t protect. And Sylvain. Goddess, Sylvain had been…

Felix shook off the memory. Like all the other times, he needed to wake up and face the day like nothing was wrong. It was how he kept himself safe; show no weakness, know no fear. Shoot from the hip and negotiate with the sword. That’s how he survived, before the war, during, and after. No one would trouble him then and that’s what he preferred.

_ No, that’s a lie. It’s a bigger issue than just being hassled. It was...It’s how Glenn always handled things. How he grew stronger… _

Glenn, his brother he idolized. Strong, accomplished even at a young age, the pride of the family. His brusque nature and propensity to get into tiffs with the other knights often landed him in hot water. Some of the tiffs his father even  _ encouraged _ . He even got into rumbles with Miklan a few times over how much of an asshole he was to Felix and Sylvain. Even back then, Felix wanted to be just like him. Glenn was strong. Glenn had nothing to fear…

Glenn died protecting their future king. Their father glorified his death, as if dying in the line of duty was the best way any of them could go. Sometimes Felix wondered if he’d go out the same way, in the moronic pursuit for postmortem honor.

_ But we made a promise, didn’t we? _

Felix huffed and buried his face into the pillow he’d been snuggling and tried to drive out the memories of both the nightmare and his brother’s untimely demise. He didn’t like getting stuck in his own head like that. It’s why he focused so much on training. One couldn’t lament their shortcomings if they only had time to focus on the fight at hand.

But as much as he wanted to get up and start his morning training, he also knew he’d been so sick he could hardly walk the day before. The only thing he really could do was take it easy, and by extension wallow in his own thoughts.

He really wished Sylvain hadn’t hidden his weapons. He couldn’t even go through his stances in his room. Damn the man for knowing him so well.

“Fe? You awake?” Fingers carded through his hair which hung loose and tangled over his shoulders. For a second he allowed the touch, relishing it. When was the last time anyone had played with his hair? He usually didn’t allow people so close…

It was then that he realized he wasn’t alone in bed. He blinked owlishly, the world coming into full focus as he registered that the “pillow” was actually a person, and said person was none other than Sylvain.

Sylvain. _ Of course. _ Felix sat upright and was grateful that the world didn’t spin again. He stared at Sylvain who was propped against the headboard, fully clothed and smirking in that usual, lazy way he always did around him. Kind and disarming. It made Felix’s heart skip a beat.

The first words out of his mouth were sour. “What are you doing here?”

Sylvain pouted, “Good morning to you, too. How are you feeling?”

“I’m--” he was about to say he was fine, but the throbbing of his head reminded him otherwise. He stifled a groan and pressed the heel of his palm against one eye to dull the pain. “--better than yesterday. What happened? Why are you in my bed?” He couldn’t even sound annoyed. He just sounded tired and vaguely miffed. Felix tried to dredge up the memories of the night before. The haze gave way to Sylvain on the floor with him, holding onto him as he sobbed into his chest, lamenting the inability to save his best friend even in his own head. _ I must have fallen asleep like that…Goddess that’s embarrassing. _

“I figured you’d sleep better if I was nearby, like when we were kids.” Sylvain ran a hand through his own messy locks. Felix couldn’t imagine he’d slept well sitting up like that. Even his own back would be griping, and he’d gotten used to sleeping on the ground.

“We’re not kids anymore.” Felix grumbled halfheartedly. He was blushing half because he’d been exposed for what his nightmares usually entailed, half because he’d just been snuggling into Sylvain’s chest like it was nothing. Sure they’d cuddled countless times when they were children, but rarely as adults. And not since…

The tips of his ears turned red. He really didn’t need to be thinking about anything like  _ that _ . Not when he was in his smallclothes and in such close proximity.

This wasn’t helped in the least by Sylvain grasping his shoulder and looking at him with that usual, nonchalant smile on his face. Felix visibly tensed.

“Hey, relax. There isn’t anyone around here for you to impress. Just you and me.”

_ Damn him for knowing me so well. _ Felix wanted to answer that having Sylvain meant there was at least one person he needed to impress, but didn’t push it. He hadn’t the energy to fight about it. There were more important things to worry about.

“Where’s Clara?” he asked, the question coming out in a huff as he made his way to the edge of the bed with every intention of seeking the infant out if Sylvain didn’t give a satisfactory answer.

Thankfully, he did. “Celia has her for her morning feeding. She’s in her room.”

Felix made a non-committal sound and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but made no attempt to get up. He needed to pace himself if he didn’t want Sylvain doting on him the entire day.

_ Would it be so bad if he did, though? _ His inner voice betrayed him. Felix didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he scrubbed at his tangled hair. His scalp felt itchy and his skin tacky with sweat. “Should bathe…” he mumbled and carefully pushed himself off the bed.

Sylvain was at his side in a blink, hand on his arm to steady him. This time, Felix didn’t push him off. “Syl, I’m fine. Seriously.”

“Right, and I’m the archbishop.” Sylvain snort at his own joke and began leading Felix--gently--towards the hall. “Sorry Fe, you’re just gonna have to deal with me pampering you for now.”

Felix huffed.  _ This is a pain _ , he thought, but still let Sylvain guide him to the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of Clara and her nurse as they passed. She had Clara on the floor on her belly with a few toys, encouraging her to work up her strength. Felix couldn’t help but smile at the scene. One would never have guessed that the infant had lived her first few months in a hayloft, just barely surviving.

“She’s doing better with breast milk.” Sylvain said as they walked, “The nurse said her tummy bloat was gone by the first night. Amazing what a difference it makes.”

“She was bloated?” Felix looked up at Sylvain, concern wrinkling his brow. He knew the baby was malnourished when he found her and had been diligent about feeding her the best substitutes for mother’s milk he could manage. To hear he was inadvertently causing her more pain--

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sylvain cut him off, “And stop it. There are a lot of mothers out there that can’t feed their kids breast milk. The bread and goat milk thing you were doing is a good alternative. She just might be more sensitive to it than others.”

Felix lowered his gaze. Sylvain seemed to have a pretty good grasp on what babies needed already. Neither of them had younger siblings. Hell, Felix was the youngest of their little quartet. All he had to go by was what he learned from watching the women of the monastery and his own servants growing up. He imagined if Glenn had been alive and had gone off to marry Ingrid, he would have a better grasp on what to do. But there wasn’t any helping that now.

The old woman at the village had at least given him some food for the baby before he left, which was the only reason he knew how to feed her in the first place. The rest was a lot of floundering.

_ How in the world did I think I’d be good at this? How does  _ Sylvain _ think I’m good at this? _

The bathroom was how he remembered it; marble tiles, fancy soaps, a huge tub next to a hearth where water could be warmed. There was already a vat over the flames, thankfully. Felix imagined it was to be used for laundry once he was done with it.

“Let’s get you settled in.” Sylvain announced while leading Felix to the tub.

Felix’s ears turned red and he batted Sylvain away, “I can bathe myself, Sylvain.” he spat, though it was half-hearted at best. His usual venom just wasn’t in it, much to his chagrin. As always it was hard to stay mad at that man.

Sylvain held up his hands in defense, “Okay, I’ll let you handle it. But at least let me get the water in the tub?”

“Syl_vain_\--”

“Felix.”

That serious tone again, the one that always threw Felix off. He lowered his gaze and rubbed his elbow with a sweaty palm. There were things he could say, but none of them seemed right.

Sylvain didn’t relent, nor did he take his eyes off Felix as he spoke.

“Will you just...stop pushing me away? I know it’s been years, but can you at least let yourself be taken care of by your old friend?”

“I can take--”

“Care of yourself, I know. I know you’ve been living on your own for a long time. But you’re  _ here. _ After all that time. Just indulge me for a while.” A pause, the look in Sylvain’s eyes pleading. “Please? Just for now.”

Damn Sylvain and that look of his that made it near impossible for anyone to say no to him. Felix sighed, “Okay, I get it. I’m just…” he ran his fingers through his dirty hair, grimacing at how it felt. He was used to being unclean but the amount of tangles in his hair was going to make washing up a bitch. “There’s a lot on my mind right now. I haven’t seen you in years, and with how we left off…”

Felix didn’t want to elaborate. He had a feeling Sylvain knew exactly what he meant; the last time they saw each other, after the war. When Felix himself was saddled with so many conflicting emotions stacked with the weight of guilt that he gave up everything. He left everything to Sylvain, his home, his legacy, and whatever else came attached. Why? Because he couldn’t handle it? Bullshit. Because the idea of being a ruling lord was boring? Maybe. Because he didn’t want to own up to the rest of his baggage?

_ Damn it. _

Sylvain sighed and stepped closer. A hand rested on Felix’s shoulder and he involuntarily curled in on himself a little. Having Sylvain touch him...he both wanted it and didn’t.

“There’s a lot of things we left in the air back then. I think I understand why you cut us off, but…” Sylvain shook his head, “No, maybe I don’t. You always did keep your cards close to your chest.”

Nail on the head again. Felix huffed. “I have my reasons.”  _ I just don’t want to think about them. _

Sylvain chuckled, “Just relax for a while. Let yourself recover. I’ve already sent word to Dimitri and it’d be pretty rude of you to just run off before he gets here.”

And Felix was bristling again, “I get it, okay? I’ll stay, but it isn’t for Dimitri.”

“Aw, for me, then?”

Felix glowered at him, “For  _ Clara _ , you idiot.”

Sylvain seemed to take that as an acceptable answer. He squeezed Felix’s shoulder before pulling away to prepare the bath. Felix found he missed the touch.

_ Damn him. _

* * *

The wet nurse, Celia, was a kind woman. About Mercedes’ age if he had to guess, soft spoken and polite. She seemed to hold no ill will against him for his outbursts, much to Felix’s relief. It was embarrassing enough to be jealous of a woman in Sylvain’s presence as it was. Instead she would quietly enter his room while he rested and sit in the plush chair near the hearth while feeding Clara. She even invited Felix to join her a couple of times, to which he declined. It was one of those  _ private _ moments he wasn’t sure he should be privy to, at least not yet.

While he wasn’t well enough to train, Felix knew he’d go stir crazy if he didn’t do  _ something _ . He settled for piddling about the study while Sylvain worked, keeping the man company while he went about his lordly duties. Much to his surprise, Sylvain had taken on a hefty workload once he took over the title of Margrave. Listening to him discuss the current state of things was helping Felix catch up to what happened after he left.

As it turned out, shortly after Felix rescinded his title, so did Ingrid with the intention of serving House Blaiddyd as a knight. She left her territory in the care of her siblings, and by extension, Margrave Gautier. Sylvain had been working with House Galatea to improve their agricultural practices, which had helped them tremendously. They were beginning to bounce back as a territory after so many years of struggle.

Meanwhile, Ingrid had formed an order of Pegasus Knights and was dutifully serving her king. Sylvain joked that she’d probably never married, dedicated to her role as she was, but both he and Felix agreed that she was probably happier that way. She never had much interest in finding a husband, though she did pay Mercedes quite a number of visits.

Felix actually found himself smiling a bit at the news. Even though it wasn’t what her family had planned for her, Ingrid had found happiness in forging her own path. He was certain her parents were proud of her, even if it meant the line of Daphnel ended with her.

“I wonder if she has a crest.” They had gone to Sylvain’s room to enjoy lunch. Felix was resting in bed, a tray holding a bowl of hearty stew and some fresh baked bread in his lap, Sylvain seated at the end of the bed with his own bowl. He paused mid-chew when Felix spoke.

“Who, Clara?”

Felix nodded, “You have a crest, so it’s possible she does too.” After all, crests were passed down from parent to child. That was just common knowledge. Even if her mother was a commoner who lacked a crest, with Sylvain having a minor crest in his blood there was a good chance Clara would have something.

Sylvain took a sudden interest in his stew, not saying a word for a moment. Just across the room, Celia was sitting in the chair next to the hearth nursing Clara while the two spoke, but she said nothing on the matter either. Felix suddenly felt very self-conscious about his choice of conversation topic.

After a long moment, Sylvain spoke. “We could ask Professor Hanneman.” he said, voice soft and almost distant sounding. “He’d be able to tell just from a strand of hair, I think. He’s got those weird machines at the school in Fhirdiad.”

“We could, yeah.” Felix took another bite of stew. He watched Sylvain closely, trying to dissect his reaction. Why did he sound so unsure about determining if Clara had a crest? Wouldn’t that be something good to know? It’d only been drilled into them since they were kids, even if the importance was gradually going out of style with the new era they helped bring in.

Felix took another bite of stew. Silence descended on the room, save for the soft cooing of Clara as she finished feeding. A moment later, Celia stood with the infant in her arms, bouncing her slightly before settling her into the bassinet next to Felix’s bed for her afternoon nap. No words were exchanged as Celia left the room, though she did cast a worried look over her shoulder at the pair.

The silence turned oppressive. It was the sort of quiet that made Felix itch under his skin. He dutifully tucked into his food, willing Sylvain to say something. It wasn’t like him to not laugh something off if it made him uncomfortable, which the topic of crests clearly did.

Felix was about to change the subject when Sylvain finally spoke.

“Does it matter?”

Felix looked up from his food to see Sylvain was looking at him again, his gaze unusually somber. “Does what matter?”

“If she didn’t have a crest. Would it matter?”

_ What a thing to ask... _ Felix’s gaze dropped to his food again. He didn’t want to see Sylvain looking like that. Like he was  _ disappointed  _ in him. “You’re asking me? She’s your kid.”

Sylvain gave a chuckle that was as fake as all the pretty words he’d tell the girls back at the monastery. “You’re right. She _is_ my kid.”

Without another word, Sylvain stood and gathered the dozing Clara in his arms.

“Where are you going?” Felix asked, trying to hide the hint of panic in his voice as he watched Sylvain walk out of the room with his daughter in tow.

Sylvain said nothing, his tray of food left on the floor, unfinished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than I wanted it to be, but I feel it cuts off at a good point. I have the next chapter halfway done so hopefully it won't take me nearly as long to get it out. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letting down his walls isn't something that comes easily to Felix. Thankfully, Annette knows her way around the proverbial sledgehammer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags specific to this chapter: platonic Felix & Annette friendship

“Well, Felix. I have to say, even after this many years, you’re still a master of putting your foot in your mouth.”

Of all the people Sylvain contacted to spread the good news of the homecoming of his newly born daughter, it was Annette who arrived first. It was purely by chance; she’d stopped in to visit Mercedes on her travels, who informed her that Felix had returned to House Gautier with Sylvain’s supposed lovechild in tow. Naturally, Annette took a swift detour from her business in a neighboring village to pay the new father(s?) a visit and confirm the news for herself.

What she found was Sylvain buried in work, a baby in his lap, while Felix himself was in the guards’ quarters surrounded by what had to be the entire estate’s armory, which he was diligently repairing and polishing. Being Annette, she immediately took charge, putting both Sylvain and Clara down for naps in their respective rooms before seeking Felix out to find just what in Sothis’s name happened.

Needless to say after hearing Felix’s side of things, she wasn’t quiet about her displeasure.

Felix would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Annette, lectures aside. She was a good friend, someone who worked to see past his prickly, standoffish habits to how he really was. Annette would often claim that Felix was actually “a huge softie once you get to know him” and as much as he wanted to correct her, she was right. She was one of the few people he felt comfortable letting down his guard around, and one of the even fewer that could bring him peace with her words alone. He’d just never tell her that, not directly. She’d never let him hear the end of it. Annette knew anyway, somehow.

Felix was still barred from training, which only served to make him antsy and irritated. The fact that Sylvain seemed to be actively avoiding talking to him outside of passing niceties was grating on him enough that the staff was worried he’d polish a hole right through the blades he was working on. At least Annette had thought to pick a good tea that afternoon, though the sweets were a bit much for his taste.

“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” Felix couldn’t even muster any bite to his words, he just sounded tired. Emotionally, mentally, physically.. _ . _

“Isn’t it obvious? You touched a nerve with Sylvain. A big, aching, exposed nerve.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Annette put down her cup on her saucer and pointed accusingly at Felix’s nose. “You wanted her tested for a crest? Seriously?”

Felix threw up his hands in defense. “How is that a bad thing? That’s perfectly normal for a noble to do!”

“Yeah, ten years ago, and you see how well that went for all of us.” Annette flopped back in her chair, “Honestly, you are still so tone deaf.”

She had a point. The crests each of them bore created their path in life, for better and for worse. Bound by duty to their families and the heir to the throne, as dictated from birth. It was something that left a poor taste in even Felix’s mouth, given how adamant his family had been about fulfilling their duty to the future king. Yet while his own father had pushed for dedication til death, Sylvain’s family, mere gatekeepers compared to his own family’s place in line to the throne, had put emphasis on furthering their noble family line.

It was that emphasis that drove Miklan to the edge and Sylvain to be treated as a prized stud instead of a son. It was for that reason Sylvain acted out, turning sorrow into lust. Falling into bed with whoever glanced his way, leaving so many broken relationships in his wake that Felix would be surprised if there were any marriage prospects left in Faerghus. He’d say it came naturally, it was just the way he was, but Felix knew better. It was Sylvain’s favorite method of self-destruction.

“Let me put it this way, Felix.” Annette set her cup down again, arms crossed over her chest. “What’s one thing Sylvain hates more than anything?”

“Responsibility?” Felix groused.

“No, you big dummy!” She clapped her hands on the table, shaking the tea set. “It’s being treated like he’s just a crest and nothing else matters!”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

It hit Felix all at once. He’d essentially asked Sylvain to test whether Clara was a bonafide crest baby, knowing how much he hated the idea of having to sire kids just for the sake of crests and furthering the family’s noble lineage. 

“Oh, hell…” Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, “That’s not what I was getting at at all!” He’d just been curious if she had a crest! That was a big deal! It’d completely change her future--

Annette growled in exasperation and shook her head. “Honestly, did your time with those mercs make you forget everything? He’s supposed to be your best friend and you go and bring  _ that _ up.” she picked up her tea cup and took a quick sip to calm herself. “Things have changed since you’ve been away.  _ Really _ changed. Since Dimitri became king, he and Sylvain have been pushing for the end of crest-driven classism.”

That was news to him. Felix had admittedly failed at keeping abreast of the political situation surrounding their new king, primarily because he wanted little to do with said politics. He’d known about the relief efforts but not the evolving social standards. He really had no idea… “Sylvain’s been pushing for that?”

“It was a long time coming, if you ask me.” Annette almost viciously devoured a cookie. She really wasn’t happy with Felix’s lack of tact. “So many of us suffered because we did or did not have a crest. Broken families, messed up marriages, the systemic abuse of the commonfolk…” She looked a little wistful at that. So much of her childhood had revolved around the honor and duty her family held to the kingdom. Her father’s self-imposed exile was just one of many hardships she faced due to predetermined duty. She wasn’t the only one who grew up having their future decided for them the moment they were born. 

Thinking on it further, Felix realized most of their class had shirked their duty in favor of forging their own path. Sylvain had taken on that burden for many of them and was trying to make the best of it.

It wasn’t that Sylvain hated responsibility in general, just the pressure of being made into something he wasn’t. Now as Margrave, he was trying to use his title how  _ he _ wanted; by bettering the lives of the people of Faerghus, including the commoners who didn’t stand a chance before.

It was an admirable endeavor, one Felix hadn’t realized Sylvain was doing. Sure he had been listening when Sylvain talked about his work, but…

_ I really did just ignore the fact that he’s been working so hard to fix things, like I should’ve been. _

It felt like just as before, Felix could only use his words and actions to hurt others. The wounds on his psyche that Sylvain had been trying to heal with his own hands had been reopened and salt poured into them by Felix, and Felix hadn’t even realized it.  _ He must feel like he can’t escape his fate even now... _

Felix pressed his face into his hands, “I’m a moron.” 

“The biggest.” Annette finished another cookie.

“I wasn’t trying to imply she needed to be a crest baby.”

“Definitely sounded like it.”

“I was just curious.”

“And what would you do with that knowledge?”

Felix sighed. No use hiding it.

“I’d find out if she’s really his.”

That brought them both pause. Annette to stare at Felix, Felix to continue burying his face in his hands, trying to control his breathing. It took a moment for either of them to say something. Thankfully it was Annette, as usual, that approached Felix when his guard was up. “Sylvain told me what happened, you know.”

Felix looked up from his hands to see that Annette was standing at his side. He looked up at her; she didn’t look like she aged a day, in spite of her tireless work at the school of sorcery. He heard she was a damn good teacher, compassionate in her work and her students alike. Felix always knew she’d be great with kids…

He wondered what she’d be like as a mother if she ever chose to have kids of her own.

“You found a baby that reminded you of Sylvain, and because you’re you, you traveled for three weeks straight to bring her to him. And in spite of all the corroborating statements, you’re unsure if Sylvain is really her father?”

“No...Yes…” He sighed, “I don’t know…” Felix sounded so vulnerable just then, his walls singlehandedly dismantled by this woman. It was always her that managed to lay him bare when he needed it the most. Things he wished Sylvain would do.

Things he wished he could  _ let _ Sylvain do.

Annette sighed and reminiscent of their times at the monastery, she coaxed him closer until Felix pressed his head against her collar. He let his eyes slip shut and just basked in her warmth, comforted by hand in his hair and the steady beat of her heart.

“You’re afraid of what’s going to happen to them, aren’t you? You’re worried you made the wrong decision bringing her here.” she asked, voice soft, soothing.

“Mm…”

“You’re afraid he won’t love her if she’s not his.”

“Mm…”

“You know he will anyway, right? He’s not like his father. Crests or lineage...they don’t matter to him. They never did.”

Felix didn’t answer. She was right. She usually was.

“Did you ever tell him? How you felt?”

Again, no answer. The silence was enough.

“You should. I’m pretty sure he’s been waiting for you.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, don’t be an idiot.”

Felix gave a chuckle that sounded more like a snort and wrapped his arms around Annette’s waist. She was the only one allowed to see him like this. Her, and maybe Sylvain. Maybe. Eventually.

* * *

In the end, Felix gave Annette a single lock of Clara’s hair. She didn’t question it, she simply took the small envelope into hand with a smile and a promise to send the results by carrier owl once she had them. The both of them were hoping the visit would last longer, but the lingering snow made travel difficult and she would already be a day overdue returning to her teaching duties.

“I promise I’ll be back. I didn’t get a chance to play with your adorable daughter!”

Felix didn’t correct her.

For a long while Felix paced his room in an attempt to collect his thoughts into more than a heated rant about curiosity and how he was just out of the loop and he definitely does  _ not  _ think of Sylvain as a crest stud. He wasn’t uneducated and he certainly had no issue giving people a piece of his mind, so why was putting everything into words so gods be damned difficult? He growled in frustration, running his hands through his hair as he tried to piece together what he wanted to say.

_ I just need to apologize. It’s all a misunderstanding, right? He blew it out of proportion so he just needs to stop ignoring me and say his piece. _

_ ...That’s not going to work either, is it? _

Felix thunked his head against the glass of the window. The sun was starting to set. Soon the maids would bring around his dinner and Sylvain would return to his quarters. Or not. He’d been working into the night since Felix’s moment of indiscretion.  _ My fuck-up, as Annette put it. _

Another sigh, another thunk against the window. He couldn’t keep putting this off. Best to just yank out the arrow and get it over with.

Felix pulled his hair into a haphazard ponytail and headed towards the study. Sylvain would surely be there still. They could talk things out and things would go back to some semblance of normalcy.

_ When did I start thinking living here with him was normal? _

Felix paused just outside the study. The door was open, inviting anyone who wished to enter. To Felix it seemed no less of a barrier. Stepping over that threshold meant admitting things about himself that he wasn’t sure he was ready for Sylvain to hear. But they needed to be said else the open wound would only fester.

_ Yank the arrow out fast. _

Felix rounded the corner, intending to storm in, slam his hands down on Sylvain’s desk, and say what it was he needed to say before the man had a chance to shrug any of it off with flippant remarks and nonchalant grins.

Except Sylvain wasn’t at his desk diligently working through stacks of missives and requests. He was standing before the window, the setting sun framing him in an otherworldly glow, with Clara in his arms. He held her close, his nose buried in her ginger curls, whispering to her as she dozed in his arms.

“It’s okay, Clara.” he said softly, so quiet Felix could barely hear. “No matter what happens, daddy will be here for you…”

It was such a serene scene that Felix felt like an intruder. Yet he remained, watching Sylvain hold his daughter as if she was the single most precious thing in all of Faerghus. The gentle reassurance, the hushed promises, the two in their own world.

Felix found himself awestruck by the beauty of it and the overflowing feeling of contentment that came with it. He wished he could paint because the scene before him was something he wanted to admire every day for as long as he lived. Sylvain outlined in an angelic glow, holding his child and wishing her fears away like he’d done for Felix so many times before. It struck him how  _ wonderful  _ Sylvain could be when only trusted eyes were on him. When he could really, truly be himself and allow the most vulnerable parts of him to show.

_ Was I really afraid he wouldn’t love her? _

“Care to join us?”

Felix startled with a soft gasp. Sylvain was looking at him, his smile just barely reaching his tired eyes. He remained near the window, Clara in his arms having finally fallen asleep. The sunlight haloed around him only made them look that much more angelic.

It took Felix a moment to compose himself. He didn’t march in with the confidence he hoped for, nor did he lay into Sylvain for avoiding him. Instead Felix came to stand before him, pressing close so he could plant a kiss on Clara’s cheek.

He remained close after, the only space between them taken up by the infant in Sylvain’s arms. It took another moment for the silence to break, this time by Felix.

“It wasn’t that I cared if she has a crest.” his voice was barely above a whisper. He only wanted Sylvain to hear. “I just...wanted to make sure I made the right decision.”

“Fe…”

Felix huffed, “You’re really gonna take care of her?”

“Of course I am.” The tone of Sylvain’s voice made Felix look up, those coppery eyes gazing back at him with a fire that rivaled the sun in its conviction. “I meant what I said. I don’t know why you keep doubting me.”

Felix knew how it must sound. To have reservations after going out of his way to deliver Clara to his doorstep truly was ridiculous. He had no real way of justifying the fear aside from his own misgivings about the world around him. How cruelly children could be treated if they fell into the wrong hands. It was ridiculous because this was _Sylvain_ they were talking about, a man who in spite of how dismissive he could be cared deeply for his friends and would do anything to help them, even if it meant putting himself last. As the margrave, as a _person_, Sylvain put himself last. He'd proven that time and again; taking on the burdens of his friends so they could flourish. How could he ever doubt that he'd take care of a child, regardless if she was his flesh and blood?

_ It was never about him...was it? _

“I don’t…” he sighed and pressed his head against Clara’s back. He could feel her little heartbeat. The last month had taught him that the sound of it steadily pattering away brought him a strange sense of comfort. There was something alive in his arms worth protecting. ”I don’t doubt you. I’m just...unsure about a lot of things, all right?” His situation, his perceptions, his feelings. Things he didn't want to convey just yet. Things Annette could guess and would surely be upset if he didn't come clean eventually. Missed boats and all that.

“This isn’t new, Fe.” Sylvain pulled his hand away from Clara’s hair and settled it atop Felix’s head, fingers carding through the loose strands. Felix didn't stop him. “You always sucked at getting your feelings across unless it was through fighting.”

Felix snorted, “I don’t suck  _ that _ bad.”

“It’s pretty bad, Fe.” Sylvain chuckled in return.

Felix brought his gaze up again, a smile tugging at his lips. Sylvain’s fingers lingered on his cheek. “Okay, I suck at it. So I’ll just out and say it. I’m sorry for bringing up the crest thing. I know how much that stuff bothers you and it was shitty of me to bring it up.”

Sylvain’s grin returned, “Well, you said it, not me.”

“Don’t push it.” Instead of going for a playful punch, Felix tugged on Sylvain’s sleeve. It was only after his fingers caught in the fabric did he realize how intimate their position was. Felix tugging him closer, Sylvain’s thumb running along his cheekbones, the two of them gazing at each other in the light of the setting sun.

Felix’s heart skipped a beat, the heat rising to his face.

_ I take it back. I want this as a painting too. _

The moment was interrupted by Clara stirring in Sylvain’s arms. Felix exhaled and gently pat her back. “We should get dinner. It’s about time for her to eat too.”

Sylvain nodded and shifted Clara in his arms. “Do you want to eat in the dining room with me tonight?”

So wrapped up in their own thoughts the two of them hadn’t shared a single meal together, and before that Felix had been taking his meals in his room. Now that Felix was edging near well again, it just made sense for the two of them to eat at an actual table.

It wouldn’t be any different from them sharing meals as they had been, or like when they were kids gathering at the Gautier estate while their fathers talked politics. Yet somehow, it felt more important than before.

It’d just be the two of them, Sylvain taking the head of the table, Felix at his side.

Felix found himself smiling at the thought.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the first half of this mostly written since the last chapter update, but I hadn't had time to finish it out for another couple weeks. I've had the scene with Sylvain holding Clara with the sun behind them in my head ever since. I hope it came out all right on paper.
> 
> For more sylvix antics, follow me on twitter @rottenadel!


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